


Purgatory's Angels

by thomasjeffersonsmacaroni



Series: The Other 51 [35]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/F, Slow Burn, angelica leads a spy network, everyone's a spy, king george is trying to take over the world, maria is the american widow of a brit, semi-modern au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:13:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9148321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomasjeffersonsmacaroni/pseuds/thomasjeffersonsmacaroni
Summary: "Purgs" is what they are called in hushed whispers in New York bars, newspapers flashing with rumors of their achievements, knowing that one of them is probably there and listening."Traitors" is what the British dictator George King calls them, looking at the colonies that used to be his, knowing that if his forces take the stronghold of New York, they will join his arsenal of land."Heroes" is what the American forces call them as they fight to protect other cities but know that New York will always remain safe."Purgatory's Angels" is what the NYC-based spy network has been called by its leader and founder, Angelica Schuyler.In a country lit by the flames of revolution, and in a world where knowing whom to trust is key, the witty oldest Schuyler sister thrives. But Maria Reynolds, a young widow blackmailed into the British side, cannot say the same of herself.So what happens when the two women, who could not be any more different if they tried, meet by fate and happenstance?Now converted into a one-chapter thing due to chapter shortness.





	

**Angelica**

The phone on her desk was buzzing non-stop with notifications, and the computer in the corner of her room that was programmed to decode messages was even more so. She chose to go to the computer first. It was usually more urgent.

_Agent Y: I have information. Make sure you are alone._

She did so for the next ten minutes, checking in all of the usual hiding spots for British spies and then checking in the spots that no one would think she would be able to guess. She lived in a world where chances could not be taken for fear of death.

_Agent Z: I am alone. What did you find out?_

She resisted the urge to add "dear sister." Although she loved her more than anything, neither of them knew who could be tracking their call. And as little information about their identities as possible was the best way to go.

_Agent Y: The B are planning an I in 2 ws. Already they are smuggling their S to us. Strategies being planned include D, W, and A._

She quickly decoded this as "The British are planning an infiltration in two weeks. Already they are smuggling their soldiers to us. Strategies being planned include disguises, sneaking in through the waterways, and air attacks." They had invented the code on one of the rare nights when they had been alone together. If the British weren't planning an invasion, perhaps she and her three most trusted spies would be watching movies, or eating popcorn, or playing board games and laughing until their stomachs hurt.

But this was not the case, would never be the case until George King was stamped out once and for all. She didn't know when that would be. Perhaps never.

But she would never stop trying her hardest to make it soon.

_Agent Z: Thank you for the information. This will be very helpful in the future._

The computer was overflowing with other notifications, all of which she painstakingly decoded and then learned by heart, quickly putting the pieces together to fashion a plan.

The British forces could try all they want, take as many colonies around the world as they wanted, but they would never take New York. And they would never, by association, take America.

She checked her phone next, and as usual, it was news and nothing more. All of the messages that she got now she got on the computer.

_The Purgatory's Angels were spotted in Central Park exchanging information and ending British presence in America. They have so far not been stopped by any Brit, and their population makes up an increasingly large portion of this city. Every day, they work to stop British attacks on New York. They are considered by many to be "underground heroes," seeing as even we know very little about them, other than the fact that they are brave, impossibly intelligent, and led by "Queen" Angelica Schuyler, who is one of the few to have not been seen by anyone._

And she would never be seen. Angelica Schuyler would always be there, working in the shadows, leading her army of spies around the city and the country and even the world.

Angelica smiled as she put down her phone. They knew her name, but they would never know her story.

 

**Maria**

Maria had once read a book that described what people were centered on, what their entire lives were based around, what in her own words was the eye of their hurricane. People like King, who now controlled her life, were duty-centered, people like her long-dead parents were money-centered, and people like Hercules and Peggy Mulligan, brother and sister who had gained King's trust, seemed to be family-centered.

But she was pretty sure that she was the only person in the world, or at least one of very few, who was blackmail-centered.

 _Blackmail._ An envelope of sensitive documents that if revealed could spell her imprisonment or death, depending on how nice King was feeling on that particular day.

 _Blackmail._ An envelope that was being held in the hands of one Samuel Seabury, like a sword constantly hanging over her head, and the only way that she could keep it from dropping down was by performing Seabury's every bidding.

Which, for some inexplicable reason, was mainly staying in Britain.

She was confused. But she tried her hardest not to question it, and her mind focused only on living in King's palace, staring longingly out of the window of her room at the planes taking off from London Airport, sometimes going to the harbor and watching the ships depart, dreaming of a magical day when she would be on one of them.

Maria knew that this day would never come. She had stopped fooling herself a long time ago.

But maybe sometimes, a dream or two was okay. Maybe sometimes.

The Mulligans came from the States but had converted to King's cause. Sometimes, she heard them talk about their family there. Apparently they had no other siblings, but there was Peggy's husband Stephen van Rensselaer, whom they sometimes called to talk to.

Peggy was married. Maria did not envy her.

Her own husband, James Reynolds, had been a leader in the British government who had come to America, fallen in love with Maria, and married her, all over the course of a little over a month. Then he had taken her back to Britain with him, and although she had been miserable at the prospect of leaving her beloved country, she had reluctantly agreed. For James.

And then he had died in a car accident, and she had stopped being James Reynolds's young wife and started being James Reynolds's young widow. That was all she was known as.

Never Maria Lewis Reynolds. Never even just Maria, or just Mrs. Reynolds. Always in relation to her dead husband.

America would treat her better, that she knew for sure. But until a miracle happened - and she had a long time ago stopped believing in miracles - it would never be her country ever again.

 

**Angelica**

Angelica Schuyler was sitting at her desk, mapping out the planned waves of British forces, when her computer buzzed with another message. Judging by the time of day - late, late night in Britain - it was from Hercules Mulligan.

She was smiling as she reached the screen. If her suspicions were right - and, as a quick glance revealed, they were - then she would be aided immensely heavily. Mulligan was her greatest spy, and she knew that if he was on the British side, she would be in terrified awe of his immense power.

Angelica was lucky that he was proudly and loyally American. She thought about that quite often.

_Agent W: KG told me that he lied about attacks A, B, D, G, and M_

_Agent Z: How so?_

_Agent W: They don't exist at all. They're traps organized to take some of our most important people hostage_

_Agent W: And he also says that attack F is at a different time_

A younger, more inexperienced Angelica would be intimidated by all of this information. But now she simply wrote it down on a small piece of paper and tossed it onto the already overflowing pile.

_Agent Z: Thank you. Tell your wife I said hello._

Mulligan was unmarried. But that was the point.

_Agent W: Till we meet again, my friend._

_Till we meet again._

It was a common greeting among the Purgatory's Angels, and slipping it into a casual conversation had long since been established as a good way to identify one of one's own. But it had a purpose far beyond mere espionage.

They lived in a world where every time two people parted, there was an overwhelmingly large chance that they  _wouldn't_ meet again. One could die, or be kidnapped, or join the opposing side and betray their teammates, or...

The possibilities, all of them, swam around Angelica's mind all day, compounding tenfold in a cycle of unimaginable pain. She herself had lost both good spies and good friends to this sort of evil.

But, in its own way,  _Till we meet again_ was a light in that darkness, a battered thumb wiping away those tears. That confidence, and that possibility, was for some the north star of their hectic lives, for others the only thing that compelled them to wake up in the morning, and for still others simply a good luck wish before an important mission.

No matter the interpretation, that simple phrase stood for many as an important symbol of the revolution, rather like the Bible in the religion of heaven.

_No. The religion of purgatory._

Angelica stood up and moved back to her desk. She had work to do, so much work, and it wasn't going to disappear just by idly musing.

 

**Maria**

Maria couldn't sleep.

That was nothing new, of course, but that night it was extra bright, and the moon was shining through the window into Maria's little room. A full moon, or maybe almost there.

Normally she would read a book in bed, something boring or something that she'd read a thousand times already - because of the too-small shelf in her room, there was often an overlap - and she would be lulled to sleep whether she wanted it or not. But this was a pull to the  _outside,_ where she was normally not allowed to go, and somehow she knew that she wouldn't be satisfied until she made sure that everything was all right.

So that was what she did. Wrapping a shawl around her shoulders, and tiptoeing down the stairs to be sure that she wouldn't be caught, she made her way out to the courtyard. Except for a couple of guards - and they were easy to avoid if she ducked behind corners every time she heard a sound. She found nothing, and she was about to go to sleep before she heard whispering from a nearby tree.

Maria crept there on tiptoes and saw two figures. As silent as possible, she listened to their conversation, realizing with every word that whoever they were, they were not what they seemed to be.

They were spies. Spies for her country.

_Americans._

Maybe miracles were real after all.

"Hello?" she asked hesitantly, jumping back when one of the figures whirled around. Hercules Mulligan.

"He-oh. Maria. I was just talking to my friend."

"I'm smarter than I look, you know. I know you're an American spy. I heard what you were saying."

"Don't be silly," Mulligan said with a laugh. "I left that life behind a long time ago. I'll be heading back soon, actually."

"Listen." Maria raised a hand to stop him. "You know I used to be American, right? The only reason I'm here is because of my husband James. And blackmail. I  _can't leave._ I want to go back home."

Mulligan nodded. "I've heard something about that. I just wasn't sure how to help you. And I don't know if you're lying or not."

"I propose a deal. I'm close to King and his associates, and I hear things. So how about I give you information, and you delete the files that are being used to blackmail me so that I can finally go back home?"

Mulligan's eyes narrowed. "How do I know that you'll follow up?"

"You don't. But I promise that I'm telling the truth. And I'll be ready for whatever you do to me if I'm not."

Mulligan raised two hands in mock surrender. "Okay. I think that settles it. Shall we start tomorrow?"

"Sounds like a plan."

They shook hands, and Mulligan smiled awkwardly. Maria's own smile was genuine for the first time in months.

_A miracle._

And soon she would be home.

 

**Angelica**

Angelica looked at her computer with confusion. She had been getting more and more messages from Hercules Mulligan, so many that they practically eclipsed the messages from her other spies. Yes, he had always been the most prominent of the Angels, but this was a completely new level, and she was very sorely tempted to send him a message asking for an explanation.

Eventually, she grew so curious that she could not resist it.

_Agent Z: May I ask how you've been getting so much new information recently?_

_Agent W: I have a new source. She found me delivering info and bribed me_

_Agent Z: Bribery? No blackmail?_

_Agent W: No. She's apparently trapped in Britain by blackmail, and she offered me information in exchange for me deleting the files._

_Agent Z: Have you done so?_

_Agent W: Working on it. Trying to delay it as long as possible because I feel like she'll cut short the info when I do it, but not too long so she doesn't purposely give me less info than usual_

_Agent Z: Even so, this is very helpful. Give her my thanks._

_Agent W: I thank her ten times over every day, but she doesn't accept it. Keeps talking about how she's not doing it out of the goodness of her heart, only so that she can go back home_

_Agent Z: Sounds like a charm. I'd like to meet her._

But Angelica knew that that would never happen. After all, this mysterious source, whoever she was, had no ties to any country. She was just a helpless little girl trying to survive, if her impression was right.

Even so, the information was useful. Perhaps her leanings didn't matter if she helped the United States finally win.

Angelica just hoped that this information was real.

 

**Maria**

It was early morning, by far earlier than Maria usually woke up, when she pulled on a pair of pants and a shirt and grabbed her black suitcase for the first time in years. As she pulled apart the curtains of her window - it took a lot of time, effort, and noise to open, so she had done all of that the night before - Maria thought about how different things were from the first time she came.

She had been young and impressive, relying on James to control her every move. And it was a public affair, too, cameras flashing, and she had forced a fake smile just for them.

Now, if there were cameras flashing, they were as secret as what she was doing, and her mission would be lost. She shuddered as she made her way down the wall, suitcase tied to her back. She had taken all the precautions, but the possibility was always there. She would need to move fast.

And the most important difference between James Reynolds's wife and James Reynolds's widow was that the widow's smile was real.

According to Maria's ticket, the high-speed ship wasn't due to leave for another couple of hours, so, bonnet on, Maria wandered the city that she had called home for the past few years.

Yes, there were parts of it that she would miss: rainy evenings and strolls with an umbrella, walking from clothing store to clothing store with a warm drink and buying more dresses than she would ever wear, the fudge shop in the middle of the city that she frequented whenever she had an extra pound. But all of those things compounded tenfold were the feeling of her true home. New York.

She would be there soon. It was almost too much to believe.

 

A couple of hours later, when she was standing on the bow of the ship and looking out at the sea, it was still impossibly true; every couple of minutes, Maria pinched herself just to be sure that it wasn't a dream.

She would be home soon. Back in New York where she belonged, instead of London where she suffered. And - she had done her research and planned everything out - she would work in Laurens's Bar, which was outspokenly and proudly American, and even though the only apartment that she could reasonably afford had mainly British affiliations, she would at last be among people she could relate to. People she could  _understand._

The wind flew into Maria's face, blowing her bonnet back and away. But at that point, she was too elated to care.

It had been a gift from Seabury, anyway.

 

**Angelica**

"All right, all right, it's almost closing time!"

John Laurens rang the bell that was hanging above the drinks bar with one hand and slammed the table with the fist of the other.

"Time to get out, fellas!"

Amidst moans and drunken groans, hordes of men and women found their way out the door. Laurens had a wooden paddle under his bar table in case he needed to use it on someone, but tonight did not seem to be one of those nights. The drunks were surprisingly cooperative, though the sounds from their screams still rang in his ears even after the bar was entirely still.

Entirely, except for the sound of scrubbing and glasses being washed and put away.

"Oh. Ms. Lewis. You're still here?"

Maria Lewis looked up. "Yes, sir. Should I leave?"

"No, you don't have to. Just clean up in the back, would you? I'll handle the bar table."

"Yes, sir."

"There's no need to call me 'sir,' Ms. Lewis. We're all equals at Laurens's Bar."

Maria smiled shyly and put down her cleaning rag. But once she was gone, John didn't pick it up and instead moved to open the door again.

"Ah! Ms. Schuyler! Always a pleasure to see you."

"And you too, Mr. Laurens."

Angelica Schuyler stepped inside, raising her skirts to avoid dirtying them.

"You're so old-fashioned, Angelica. Always wearing that dress around everywhere. Isn't it inconvenient for you?"

"No, not really. I like it. And besides, there's old-fashioned Brits everywhere. Anyway, I needed to talk to you. Are you alone?"

"No,  I have an employee in the back. But she's a _very_ loyal American. She tells me that she went through intense troubles to get here from Britain."

Angelica narrowed her eyes. "Could be an elaborate cover. Can we go upstairs?"

John sighed. "All right. My room is fairly private. We can discuss there."

"Let's go."

Once John and Angelica were sitting on his bed, she looked up at the ceiling and let out a slight groan.

"We're losing more soldiers than ever before. Peggy's husband, Stephen, died in battle a little while ago. And on top of that, we're getting much info. It seems as if now that everyone knows what my Purgs are, they also know _who_ they are, and how to identify them. Especially my dear Eliza. She's had to go into _hiding_ because of how vehemently the Brits hate her. And it seems as if the movement has largely moved into NYC, so Hercules and Peggy aren't very helpful, either."

Angelica's fists tightened, nails digging into her palms. "John, I'm scared for our country. Last night, while I was making my rounds, I saw our symbol graffitied on a wall. And under it, someone had written, 'The Purgs will rise forever.' People are _relying_ on is, John. And especially on me. But I don't know what to do."

There was a lump in her throat, and she was blinking rapidly to keep from crying. But the tears came regardless, blending with her makeup and flowing down her cheeks. Through her breakdown, she whispered just one sentence.

"If Maria Reynolds was still with us, then maybe we would be doing better."

At that moment there was a knock on the door. When John opened it, he let out a slight gasp at the figure which now stood before him.

"I'm sorry I eavesdropped," she said, holding a feather duster in her hand. "But I'm Maria Lewis. I've helped you once, and I can do it again - for a price."

 

**Maria**

As soon as Maria had spoken, Angelica nearly fell over backwards in her shock.

" _Maria Reynolds?_ " she whisper-screamed. "John, you've been employing _Maria Reynolds?_ "

"I prefer Lewis," Maria said, running a hand through her hair. "James Reynolds was my husband, and I'm his widow. And I was forced to go by Reynolds in the state, but now I'm returning back to my home and to myself."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Angelica smiled. "Thank you for your service, by the way, Ms. Lewis. I'm Angelica Schuyler, leader of the Purgatory's Angels. And if you want to help us again, then we'll be more than happy to have you."

"Of course. But I'd much rather not work for free, so if you have payment..."

Angelica paused for a second to consider this. But then she nodded.

"I _do_ have payment. Or, at least, I will in a couple of weeks. Would you be willing to work for free until then?"

"Yeah, of course. As long as you can pay me later."

Angelica smiled and held out her hand. Maria stepped forward and shook it.

"In that case," she said, "I think I speak for the whole country when I say that we're more than glad to have you back."

 

**Angelica**

In the coming weeks, Angelica found herself unable to believe that she had ever said that the Purgatory's Angels were failing; they got more information from Maria than they had ever gotten from anyone, and even though she didn't know where exactly it was all coming from, it was still incredibly useful, and using both it and her spies, Angelica got reports that several attacks were shut down before they even happened.

It wasn't the end, not by any means; the attacks would keep coming and coming and coming, perhaps never stopping.

That thought scared Angelica. She didn't want to devote her entire life to shutting down a British dictator.

But she still worked past her fear, and every day she toiled to save the country, and every day she kept getting information from Maria Lewis.

And every time Angelica was able to shut down an attack, she - and the other Purgs that she talked to - felt hope illuminating them. Maybe, everything would stop soon after all.

 

**Maria**

Maria’s secret had nothing to do with her secret spy expertise, though she had that in abundance, nor did it have to do with her friendships with the rest of the Purgs, which she did not have in abundance, because she was too shy to approach them. The real reason why she had so much success in the spy business was because the building she lived in was mainly occupied by Brits, and as far as they knew, she was like them.

They could believe what they wanted. And Maria played on that belief.

She acted like innocent housewife Maria Lewis, hair tied in ribbons as she served her new neighbors tea and cookies (or “biscuits” as they called them in their lovely accents). And she would lure them in under the guise of sweet curiosity (by personal principles, she did not sneak drugs or alcohol into their drinks), and through peaceful chats, she would lure the information  
that she needed out of them.

Did it make her feel guilty? A little. But it was for a good cause, and that trumped most of the bad feelings that she had about the operation.

Maria heard a knock on her door, snapping her out of her thoughts. She fastened the recording device under the multilayered dress that she wore and smiled in the mirror to make sure that her makeup was in place.

It was time for business once more.

 

**Angelica**

At one point - neither of them knew when - Angelica started inviting Maria to her office to talk outside of work, just as two women thriving in the United States of America.

"So, may I ask why ‘Purgatory’s Angels?’” Maria asked Angelica during one of these chats, smiling and sipping the coffee that she had been provided.

Angelica laughed. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask that, actually. I saw it in your face when I told you it was called that. The ‘Angels’ part is because of me, Angelica, and also because I’d like to think we’re doing God’s work by keeping the British Empire from defeating us. So Heaven’s Angels is too Christian for people who don’t follow that faith, Hell’s Angels is overdone, Purgatory’s Angels is cool and unique. And it’s a pun, too. We’re Purging the Brits out of the United States.”

"Ooh, that’s good,” Maria said appreciatively.

“Thanks, my sisters helped me with it. Do you have any siblings?”

“No, I’m an only child. My parents were way too poor to have more children than me. And then, of course, I was too poor to have a profession of my own, so I married rich just so I would have any chance at all of surviving.”“

So you only married James because he was rich?” Angelica asked, tilting her head.

Maria sighed. “I think I loved him, at one point. And I was too blind to notice his flaws, like how he controlled me all the time, or how cruel he was to me when I didn’t do what he wanted me to. And - does this make me a bad person, Angelica? - I think I was a little bit glad when he died. Then I could at least be a bit more free than I was when I was with him.”

“It doesn’t make you a bad person,” Angelica said reassuringly, placing a hand on Maria’s. “If he really was controlling you, then…”

“Thank you, ma’am. That made me feel better.”

“Oh, please don’t call me ma’am. I’d like to think that by now we’ve become friends. Wouldn’t you?”

“I’d like to think so, too,” Maria said with a smile. “I’ll try not to call you that from now on.”

 

**Maria**

Bad news always shows up in people's lives when they least expect it. And it was the same with Maria when she got an email from _samuel.seabury@gmail.com._

 _Maria,_ it read, but the words were blurry from her tears,

 _How could you leave me? Did you_ really _think all my blackmail was gone? Did you think that you could escape just like that?_

_Well, you thought wrong. I demand that you come back, or I will release the info - newly refound - and I will order Mr. King to kill you and your new friends._

_Don't tell them anything. But I will expect you back soon._

_Love, Samuel_

Maria nearly threw her laptop onto the ground in anger. How could this be happening? Her life was going so well, she was so happy, and now...

Now everything was going to ruin.

 

**Angelica**

On the morning that Angelica Schuyler got the notice that Maria was quitting and returning back to Britain, her heart was so numb with tears that she barely paid anything else attention.

_A traitor. After I trusted her so much..._

Before she left for work every day, she would stand in front of her mirror, breathing through her mouth and telling herself that she would not, would not, would not break today. Not once did she cry, though she came close as she put on her dress and tied her hair into a ponytail and got ready to go back to business.

She came close in the afternoons, when she sat in her office alone drinking tea and remembered how she had used to drink coffee with Maria. She came close in the evenings, when she had to remind her agents to be vigilant in case of a sudden betrayal. And she came close late at night, staring at her pillow, wondering what could have prompted her right-hand woman's sudden shift in loyalties.

_Oh, Maria..._

Angelica came so close to slipping. It would always be a wonder to her that she hadn't.

 

**Maria**

While Angelica was thinking of Maria, Maria, though she didn't know it, was thinking of Angelica.

The fearless leader of the Purgatory's Angels was on her mind practically every day - how could she not be, when the concepts of betrayal and blackmail and war and peace and anger and frustration were dripping through all of London? How could she not be, when she was realizing, almost for the first time, how deeply in love she was with her best friend?

In Britain, life was surprisingly peaceful, because somehow Maria had managed to stay out of the circles of counterrevolution. But it would never be enough. And Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, or Laf for short, was the epitome of that.

 

He was an ambassador from France, the most prosperous colony under British control, and he seemed to be good at his job as well. He moved with a sort of fluidity, voice like honey and eyes like chocolate, and both Peggy and Hercules were instantly captivated by him.

Maria watched from the sidelines, only speaking to him when spoken to, and not speaking to the two main spies at all. Judging by their glares, they, like everyone else, thought she was a traitor through and through.

But still, she watched the Marquis, watched his behaviors and motions, even listened in on his conversations, and an idea built in her head like a tower, growing and growing and growing every day.

Laf wasn't on the British side.

"You aren't, are you?" she asked him in his room once. "You're an American. Like me."

He raised an eyebrow in confusion, so Maria tried again.

" _Till we meet again,_ right?"

"Actually I'm a Frenchman," he said in a whisper, pulling her inside and close to him. "But yes, I am helping the Americans, Ms. Reynolds."

"Lewis. I just want you to know that I never willingly betrayed the States, Monsieur Lafayette. I was blackmailed into the British side, and I still am. If it were completely my choice, I would still be in New York."

His eyebrow furrowed. But then he nodded.

"I thought as much," he said. "You can still help us. Would you like to?"

Maria smiled and clenched her hands together. "I'm ready."

 

**Angelica**

_There will be a huge attack in two weeks._

_Ms. Schuyler, prepare yourself; our forces will be attacked very soon._

_The British are almost upon us._

From every source, it was the same information about the same attack. And that was why Angelica barely slept; she was sitting at her desk, writing letters, making plans, sending e-mails.

Tell the spies in London to give wrong information. Tell the spies across the country to fortify their borders, to keep bringing her what they had found out, to keep, keep, keep trying their hardest to defeat the Brits.

This would be a decisive victory, Laf told her, examining the data. She would need to win it.

And then, their struggles could end once and for all.

 _Could._ There was a huge, looming chance that they would fail.

Angelica bowed her head at her screen. She couldn't think of that possibility just yet.

 

**Maria**

"I haven't told her about you."

Laf and Maria were sitting in his room, both reading books, when he said this.

"Why not?" she asked curiously, tilting an eyebrow with slight sadness.

"British spies could intercept it. But what you're learning is really helping us. Again."

Maria smiled. "I'll take credit for it if we win."

The word "if" silenced both of them for the next minute. And then, Maria spoke again.

"Laf?"

"Yes?"

"If I tell you something personal, will you make fun of me?"

"No, of course not. What is it?"

"I think I'm in love with Angelica."

Laf nodded. "Okay. I don't know if she feels the same way, but if - _when_ we survive this, you can tell her."

"I guess I can."

She smiled at him, and he smiled back. And then, they said nothing more for a long, long time.

 

**Angelica**

It was only about an hour or so into the battle, and already Angelica was losing her mind.

She had no combat skills, and her advisors told her that she would probably be more useful behind the scenes than on the battlefield. So she was sitting at her desk, watching footage from the Purgs who had chosen to film it, and sending out orders.

The Brits were surprisingly disorganized. Laf had told her that an anonymous source of his had been feeding King false information, and that was why they were fighting in ways that would have seemed ridiculously dumb under any other circumstances.

It was going well, Angelica relayed to Herc, Laf, and Pegs abroad. She was immensely optimistic that it would result in a decisive victory.

"Well, all we can do is pray," Peggy whispered. "Good luck, Angie. You got this."

Angelica smiled. "I hope so. Well, I have to go now. See you."

"Good luck again. _Till we meet again._ "

" _Till we meet again._ "

 

Days passed and days passed, during all of which Angelica got much less sleep than a person would probably require, and then she got an email from the leader of the forces, General Hamilton.

_King surrenders. He wants to meet with you and President Washington to negotiate a treaty of peace. We won._

 

**Maria**

Maria stepped off of the ship landing in New York along with Laf, Herc, and Peggy in the thralls of victory. Angelica and Eliza ran forward and hugged their friends and sister, but both looked at her with puzzles on their faces.

"I never betrayed you," Maria explained. "The blackmail resurfaced. And I wasn't allowed to tell you about it either."

"She helped a lot," Laf added. "She was the 'anonymous source' I was telling you about."

"I made sure it was destroyed for good, though," said Herc. "So welcome back to New York, Maria."

Angelica added, "Welcome home."

 _Home._ It was almost unbelievable. _Home and my friends and Angelica._

_Oh, yeah._

"I have something for you," Maria said, looking over at Laf and winking. He handed her a bouquet of white roses and mouthed, _Good luck._

Maria took a deep breath before beginning.

"Angelica. I just wanted to say that you couldn't possibly have a more appropriate name. You've been so kind to me, like...like an angel. You're smart and beautiful and witty and amazing and kind and so many other things, and it wasn't until I was away from you and I knew for sure you hated me and I couldn't do anything about it that I realized that I loved you. So will you be my girlfriend?"

Angelica took the roses, and her eyes widened in shock and joy as she mouthed the word, "Yes." And then she couldn't help but hand them to Eliza and burst forward to kiss Maria on the lips.

The war was over. But their new life had just begun.


End file.
